Modern chivalry :: :: University of Virginia Library

Modern chivalry

containing the adventures of a captain, and Teague O'Regan, his servant

Brackenridge, H. H. (1748-1816)

[title page]

BOOK I.

BOOK II.

APPENDIX.

CINCINNATUS.

THE MODERN CHEVALIER.

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APPENDIX.

SOME scenes of the preceding had been written in
the first instance, in verse as what might be the foundation
of an American Hudibrass; but afterwards embraced
in prose, in the general narrative. To diversify the
entertainment, some of these scraps are given here, and
which may be preserved as a specimen of what the work
might have been in that way. To me the verse of Butler
is not less pleasing than the prose of Cervantes;
but though in my own opinion, my verse in imitation of
that of Butler is not without some felicity of imitation,
yet never having been complimented to the same extent
by others, I thought proper to change my composition
into that of prose; or rather to drop the continuation of
it in verse, and to take prose, which was a more humble
and might be a safer walk. The following is the XIth
chapter, of the first volume, containing what respects
the institution of the Cincinnati Society.

CINCINNATUS.

A POEM.

WHAT time the States had settled peace
With adversaries over seas,
And troops disbanded, it seem'd good,
To institute a brotherhood,
Among the chieftains of the war,
Of Cincinnati character,
Who now laid by their arms and came,
To seek an agricultural fame,
On territory they had sav'd.
For, as together they had brav'd,
The toils of service, wish'd a tie,
At least upon the memory,
Of that companionship; hence 'twas,
The institution came to pass,
Of a society and badge.
At first it did provoke the rage,
Of several of the citizens,
As not republican; and hence,
When one of these in rambling gait,
Came to a village of the state,
With badge dependent at his bosom.
It seem'd a singular rosy crozum,
And drew attention and surmise;
And every one that seem'd more wise,
Began discussion of th' affair.
A certain pedagogue was there,
Did first accost, and ask'd the rise,
And the intendment of device,
And how he got it, when and where;
Effigies of a bird of the air,

And other such interrogatories.
The Cincinnat who heard the queries,
Explain'd the history of the club,
And effigy upon the bob;
Videlicet, that having fought,
And put the adversar's to trot,
Retir'd from war like Cincinnatus,
And were about to plant potatoes;
But first in memory of their warfare,
And individuals did most care for,
Had set up club and wore a badge.
And what bird have you in the cage,
Quoth pedagogue? Is it a goose,
That you have chosen for your use?
Or a wild turkey or a swan?
This hurt the Cincinnati man—
Quoth he, I will not say you mean,
T' affront, and throw out with design,
This sarcasm o the badge we wear;
But 'tis an eagle of the air,
And emblematical of power,
As having dominion of the lower,
Fowls of the stack-yard and grove;
And hence becomes the bird of Jove,
And is device upon the badge,
Which you and other fools with rage,
Decry and vilify and abuse,
As being without sense or use;
Because your ignorance is such,
You cannot comprehend it much,
The meaning of the hieroglyphic,
Or motto that is scientific,
Devis'd by scholars that were good,
And authors of similitude.
Quoth pedagogue, I own I saw
It had a bird's tail and a claw;
But never did so far encroach,
To look distinctly on the broach
Whether a grey goose or a drake,
That seems to give himself a shake;
But what resemblance does it bear
To him of Roman character;
Who wore no brocket at his button
Or a remarkable escutch'on;

But when had ended war and battle;
Return'd t' his harrow and draught cattle,
Without a goose-resembling bauble;
Or other bird or beast, could gabble,
A word of Latin or of Greek.
But what the phrase it seems to speak?
Relinquit omnia, servare
Rempublicam; But quere,
Had this same Roman much to leave?
Or, would he not have laugh'd in's sleeve,
T' have had these words applied to him?
And you that are of modern time,
Were in the same predicament,
Before you to the warfare went.
So that the point is not in this,
From whence the eulogy takes rise,
The having left an ox or two,
Or an old horse with which did plough;
But your returning to your place,
When armies had been sent to grass;
So that 'twere better you had made it,
Nunc victor ad aratrum redit:
Or some intelligible phrase,
That would bespeak the proper praise,
Which really did belong to such,
As not ambitious over much,
Return'd from victory and war,
To till their ground, and take the care,
Of stock upon their farms; but wore,
No other ensign than before,
With barbarous Latin such as this,
Assum'd for the diagnosis.
To him a certain clergyman,
Did take upon him to explain,
The meaning of the badge and use,
Drawn from the hist'ry of the Jews;
Said, he was an idolater,
That from the eastern climes came there
With native sparrow at his breast;
Or what else bird it was express'd;
Egyptian ibis or a stork,
That did among the sedges lurk,
In face of dictate that was given,
By decalogue the law of heaven,

Inhibiting the worshiping,
Of graven bird or beast or thing;
Or that he was a great magician,
And dangerous on this occasion;
For had a trinket of his own,
And abracadabra writ thereon,
With some infernal spell or force,
Above a common Christian's powers.
The Cincinnat enrag'd to hear
Attack upon his character,
Address'd him to the populace,
Which were assembled at the place.
Quoth he, though no great orator
Experience being more in war,
Yet sense of injury and wrong,
May give me exercise of tongue;
Enable me to tell my tale
In way, perhaps, acceptable;
Especially as candour hears,
As is evinc'd by your drop'd ears.
For well aware that public lies,
Insinuation and surmise,
Have got the start of me, I fear'd,
I would not be with candour heard.
It seems the thing has gone abroad,
That I have image of false god,
Hung at my breast; the effigy
Of bird, or beast, or fish, or fly;
Which idol grav'd in bit of gold,
Like the idolaters of old,
I worship, and put up a prayer;
Tho' but a wild fowl of the air.
Theologists have given rise,
To this religious prejudice,
As natural to every mind,
To breed according to its kind;
But nothing more dissimilar,
Than that a soldier in the war,
Should worship God at all, or beast,
In effigy or shape express'd;
For seldom worship the true God,
Save when some danger comes the road
Unless the Swearing by the Lord,
Or zounds or zuks, or some such word,

May be accounted reverence,
Express'd to the Omnipotence;
And therefore much less probable
T' adore the visual beak or bill
Of this small eaglet that I wear.
As to idolatry am clear;
For though know nothing more about,
Religions that are set on foot
Than a grey goose; yet catholic,
Let all men worship till they're sick;
Nor interfere with church or psalm,
But be plain soldier as I am
You that compose my audience,
Are persons of superior sense,
And can with others set that right
Misrepresented by this wight,
And save my hard earn'd character,
And the good name I wish to bear.
There was a citizen just by,
Attentive to the apology.
Quoth he; it may not be the shape
Of bird or beast at which you gape,
For sake of reverence or prayer;
But to distinguish what you are;
The only champions of the cause;
It being not the truth; whereas
Are many others that have fought,
And taken the Hessian by the throat,
And may deserve more solid praise,
Than wearing that small thing of brass,
Unworthy even of you that chuse,
To have the ensign of the goose.
Is't not ridiculous that one,
Who in the service has been known,
As champion of a sober cause,
Which with it such advantage draws
To the republicks of this clime,
Should turn his thoughts to such a whim
As savours of a ruder age,
When every light-head wore a badge;
And is no trophy or a spoil
The warrior earn'd, upon the soil,
But arbitrary honour made,
By some one of the brazier trade;

And is no special proof of worth;
There are so many to hold forth,
Pretension to the same devise?
For the peculiar honour lies,
In being distinguish'd in desert.
Are you the only that have mer't,
In revolution brought about?
Or are there not amongst the croud,
Some others that have just pretence;
If not with sword, at least with brains,
To patriotism in the cause?
If not with arms they have with jaws
In councils of the several states,
Or by their writings in Gazettes,
Rebuff'd the British power and force
And militated with discourse;
And many who have spoke and wrote,
Have also on occasion fought.
And there are victims of the cause,
By operation of the laws;
In favour of the general good.
What think you of the multitude,
Reduc'd by fluctuating paper,
Estates vanishing like vapour,
And brought to beggary and loss?
For take the people in the gross;
And all have suffer'd more or less;
And so may claim by services,
At least a bit of lead or pewter,
As their deservings are minuter,
And institute a club or so,
For what they did against the foe,
In their particular grades and places;
So that the multitude increases,
To an infinity of badges;
The honorary rights and wages,
Of the whole bulk of citizens.
In this there might be share of sense,
But the Cincinnat replied,
As having more reason on his side.
Quoth he, it is a small affair,
If at the period of the war,
We instituted this our club,
To recreate us after rub,

And wear a badge which some arraign
As visionary toy, and vain;
But is't not fancy that supplies,
One half of things which are our choice;
And all beyond the dress and food,
Is but imaginary good?
The cut, the colour of the garb
Distinguishing the Jew from Ar'b;
And all kinds of appendages,
Of different tribes and nations dress
Have their foundation in caprice;
Not from necessity take rise.
The savages that are untaught
Do wear their honours at the snout;
And nature sanctions the pursuit
By giving feathers to the brute.
The badge we wear is not a charm
Of physical or moral harm;
But forcibly doth operate,
And in the human mind create
A love of fame and dignity,
By having this before the eye;
As, in the British isle, a Star
And Garter, is reward of war;
And the St. Louis cross in France:
In other places like advance:
It is a small thing if from toil,
Of summers sun and winters soil,
Deficient in the stipend due,
We wear a thing distinct from you,
A trifling signet of our own,
Which scarcely costs us half a crown
Is there a law against the usage,
Proscribing it as a surplusage;
So that a writ of capias corp',
Can have the virtue to disturb?
If there is neither rule of nature,
Or jurisprudence that can deter,
And hinder us, why not go on,
On the same principle begun?
For though not great the excellence,
Yet have there not been men of sense,
Among the Romans and the Greeks,
That wore such things about their necks?

A bull or button at the breast;
And yet the thing not made a jest,
By persons that have talk'd like you?
Quoth citizen, it may be true;
And also in the modern days,
There have been found out many ways,
To tickle fancies of the fools.
There scarcely is a king but gulls,
His courtiers with appendages,
(At least when he is moneyless)
Proud of a feather that is red,
Or blue, because they take't in head,
It does them honour with the prince;
But here behooves us to have sense,
And real merit of our own,
And not a mark to make it known,
Hung up like sign at tavern door,
Or barber's pole your nose before,
Evincing that there is within,
You could not otherwise divine.
Besides, why do you quote the Greeks,
Or Romans that had like dogs tricks?
There is a difference in the case;
For there the people's suffrages,
Bestow'd the honour that was worn;
But here it would not serve your turn,
But you yourselves assum'd device.
Quoth Cincinnat, the error lies
In this; we took it up; but yet,
It may be said the gift of the state,
Because the honour was our right,
And by deserving we came by't.
Be that as't may, the thing is safe,
And well befitting to the brave;
And innocent in name and nature;
Nor works a harm to single creature,
T' offend a layman or divine.
At this the clergyman hark'd in,
Quoth he, have said, and say it again,
The thing is heathenish and vain,
And wearer an idolater,
Of whom there is just cause to fear,
Is some false prophet come to light
As is laid down in sacred writ,

That fell deceivers would arise,
In the last days to blind our eyes,
And draw us from the truth we hold;
For as to that same bit of gold,
What use? unless symbolical,
Of something bad and magical,
With rhyme that is engrav'd thereon?
If the mythology was known,
It might be found it was that gog,—
And magog that has lain incog,
So long in the apocalypse;
And now emerging from eclipse,
Has risen in such shape to men.
The Cincinnat to him again:
Quoth he, it ill becomes a priest,
To travel from his sphere, and jest,
About this trinket that I wear;
Against it roaring like a bear,
Who should be reasoning with the Jew,
Wherever you can find a clue;
Or with the infidel, about
The devil's horn and cloven foot.
Is this the knowledge that you gather,
From every old and long dead father,
As Chrystostom or Polycarp,
Who on a different string did harp;
Not meddling with our institutions,
Instead of prayers and absolutions,
And teaching from the catechism,
The origin of faith and schism:
Which is unnatural and absurd,
Deserves to be chastis'd and cur'd?
For have you not an ample scope;
Or as we say enough of rope,
To vent your rage and crudities,
Against the errors that arise,
Of fools that are propense to evil,
And lay the fault upon the devil,
As if he were a Jack o' lantern,
In every whole and corner saunt'ring,
Who never yet was out of hell,
Or knew a single syllable,
About the matter laid t' his charge,
In pulpit oratory at large?

I'st not enough to split your text;
(Till every hearer's heart is vex'd)
In forks and branches multiple,
And firstlys, and so-forths at will,
With heads and horns of Daniel's ram,
That in the prophet's vision came;
Or bring a sermon out of what
Has scarce the semblance of a thought,
By the reversion of the phrase;
Or cloathing pristine nakedness,
With commentaries of the brain,
Which no man else can find therein;
And have you not interminable,
Career to run as fast as able,
Through all the systems of the faith,
And variations that it hath,
Drawn from theology of schools,
Or self-born of the preachers skulls,
And built upon the abstract base;
Which was originally much less:
For so extensive is the flood,
Of knowledge that is bad or good,
A man may souse therein and toss,
Just as in ocean would a goose,
And find no shore or bottom out
Of doctrines that are set on foot?
Where then necessity to stretch,
Your legs upon us at a fetch,
As if you had not room at home
To canter on your hypodrome,
But must inveigh against what is
But a mere symbol and device,
And has no moral turpitude;
Or meaning that is bad or good.
And cannot give offence to Moses,
Or hurt the decalogu's proboscis,
Or you that are conservators,
Of all that in religion stirs.
Theologist—The matter lies
Just here; the pagan deities,
False gods in Egypt or elsewhere
Did under some such shape appear;
And even we read amongst the Jews
They fell sometimes to this abuse;

But chiefly worship'd calves and stocks;
For which were given them rebukes.
But paganism worship'd fowls,
Eagles and pigeons and vile owls,
Which you would imitate by this
A sample of idolatries,
And whoredom people did commit,
And carnal sins in holy writ;
And hence were banish'd from the earth
Which gave the several nations birth,
Of Canaanites, and after them,
The Philistines that err'd the same;
The Romans, Greeks, and other pagans,
That had their Ashtaroths, and Dagons
And worship'd bulls, and goats and heifers;
And were your oracle believers;
Which brought the curse of God upon them:
And hence it is that there is no man,
Who sees affection that you have
For that which workmen did engrave,
But fears a judgment for the sin,
And wickedness that is therein;
Deserving every punishment,
That on the guilty can be sent.
The Cincinnat was very wroth,
At matter and the manner both,
Of this retort; nor could restrain
Repulsive motions of his brain,
And choler; but essay'd to draw
His hanger contrary to law
And civil authority; when one
Of cooler judgment looking on,
Who was a great Philosopher,
Though yet had made but little stir,
Put by the blow, and thus bespoke;
Quoth he, your hot-born rage revoke,
Nor draw your sword upon the cloth,
Because you are a little wroth;
And without reason or just cause,
At what has been thrown out; whereas,
It is a general allegation,
And turns upon the whole profession
Of club, which has so broad a base
It easily bears it, in this case,

And is not personal alone,
To you on whom the thing is thrown;
And when a number are to bear
The ignominy of the affair,
It is as nothing to the whole.
Have you Don Quixotte in your skull,
And yet not recollect the speech,
He made t' a town within his reach.
Which had conceiv'd offence, because
His Sancho braying like an ass;
At which he was not any slouch;
Did seem to say they were just such?
He tells them that no word can strike
Or hurt a body politic,
Because the offence has no just base
Of individual in the case.
Are not the learned professions known
To be a string to harp upon?
We say that lawyers are all rogues,
And preacher, that he but humbugs;
And of physician, that he kills;
More than he cures with his damn'd pills.
And yet we have not on our backs,
The whole of these like pedlars packs;
For the physician, lawyer, priest,
Laughs at the matter, as a jest.
Why then enrag'd, at any one,
For obloquy, that he has thrown,
Just for a theme of his discourse,
To raise a laugh among the boors?
Do they who write your worst of satires,
And ironies and all such matters,
Possess a temper worse than others,
Drawn from the nature of their mothers;
Or just to shew their wit, at times,
They scratch out paragraphs and rhymes;
Attack the clergy, or the bar;
Or with Hypocrates make war;
Or chuse a country, or a town
To be the subject of lampoon;
Who laugh and read the ridicule;
And only but a natural fool,
Would take in head to fight or fence;
Or 'gainst the slander break his shins.

But where there may be some just base,
Of obloquy, in any case,
It more behooves to bear, as here,
Where though the matter may be clear,
You have a right to wear what badge,
You choose; yet, there are who allege,
It is a trespass to break heads;
For though the man is pleas'd who reads,
The history of achievement, yet,
Not him who feels the blow on's pate.
Unseasonable chivalry,
Does not with modern times agree;
Where law takes place of ancient prow'ss,
And puts a stop to the abuse,
Nor troubles knights to knock down cows;
Or giants that have broke a house;
So that it is unnecessary;
The cudgelling an adversary,
Especially a clergyman,
Who has his privilege: again;
Inglorious to make war with such,
Not having honour very much,
Of victory, when it is obtain'd.—
There was a corporal by, hot-brain'd
Who had been in the war, and fought;
But no bald eagle, yet had got;
Or was a partner of the club,
Which military had set up;
And took it much amiss that those,
Who equally had fac'd the foes,
Unworthily, were left i' th' lurch,
To stand the back side of the porch,
And though, were also at the must'ring;
Yet had not at the breast, or postern,
A thing, significant of this—
For his part, he was wounded thrice,
While that same officer that spoke,
Had scarcely ever seen the smoke.
But since he was so hot to fight,
With Talmudist, no man of might,
Had better turn to him a soldier,
Would make his blood a little colder;
And ease him of intemperate passion;
Because the parson had some reason,

And others, to find fault, and blame,
The Cincinnat that left no fame,
To th' common soldier, and the serg'ant
But of your own accord, take charge on't
And wear this honour as your own,
Appropriate to yourselves alone.
Quoth Cincinnat; an officer,
Alone can have a right to wear,
The emblem of the victory;
Because there must be low and high;
And what is better born and bred,
'Tis reas'nable should be the head.
For what our nature makes the foot,
Doth, in the inferior station, trot.
As, in this very body of ours,
We do not go, upon all fours;
So, it is reas'nable, there should,
Be a distinction of the brood;
And those who have but little sense
And lower quality of brains,
Should occupy a sphere beneath.
Is not the officer the head?
When we gave orders you obey'd,
So that 'tis proper you possess
But the inferior grade and place;
And have no badge or institution.
The corporal felt his passion rushing.—
Quoth he, have just as good a right,
As you, though thus you did come by't
To take to ourselves and wear a badge.
The Cincinnat in greater rage.
Quoth he, forsooth, because you fought,
Where battle was a little hot,
You claim the privilege with us,
To be o' th' inside of the house,
To have insignia at your breast!
As well might an irrational beast,
The horse that draws artillery gun,
Or soldier had to ride upon,
Put in for heraldry, because,
Has sometimes been where danger was.
What would you think to see a ribbon
Or badge hung at his tale or hip-bone?
A burlesque on your appetite,
To have this matter made so light,

Which were a proper ridicule
When such a Teague O'Regan fool
As you, would claim the establishment.
The corporal's anger which was spent
Broke out.—It was not proof of sense,
Or other quality of brains,
Quoth he, that fabricated one,
An officer, and let alone,
The other, that was just as good;
But Congress, that was in the mood;
For had a comrade, in my hut,
That often made a common butt,
Of those that were his officers,
Who had as little sense as bears—
And yet forsooth poor soldier Dick,
May wish for honour, till he's sick,
And get no knob or bit of ribbon,
Hung at his bosom, or his hip-bone,
As many of the cod-heads have,
Who did not shew themselves so brave,
In any battle that was fought.
At this, the Cincinnat, red hot,
Drew out his hanger, to shed blood,
And hew down corporal, as he stood;
Who forming front advanc'd his centre,
As if he would the onset endure;
Hence thought it best, t' accost him first,
Before the matter came to th' worst.
As Homer, when he wages battle,
Between two of heroic cattle,
He has a parley, and a speech,
To know each other, which is which;
And of what origin, they were;
And, how the devil, they came there:
Because, who knows, but they were cousins?
So should not cut each others weazons;
But, turn to other combatants:
And even in the time of giants,
And champions, throughout Christendom,
Before they, hand to hand, did come,
And actual clashing of the swords,
'Twas not unusual to have words;
Though what was proper to be said,
Have not at present in my head:

But do, remember, very well,—
What from our Cincinnatus fell.
Quoth he, if, so preposterous,
T' have also what they call a goose,
Is your ambition, why not take,
God's name! and hang it at your neck;
Or at your breech, or back, or bosom;
Or like a turkey-cock, at nose o' 'im?
Some wooden peg, or pewter noggin,
To wear it as you are a joging;
Or copper ball, or piece of metal
Inferior, for the common cattle;
With something on it like a bird
Or sign of poultry; whence infer'd,
That you have rob'd hen-roosts, you rogue
Or stole a duck or drake incog;
When rations were a little scarce.—
This seem'd to make the thing a farce;
And a militia man just by,
Who listen'd t' him attentively,
Was angry, and began to frown,
To see the soldier so run down.
Quoth he, though but a common rat,
I am, and you a Cincinnat.
Great captain, that have spoke so loud,
In your haranguing to the croud;
And, though I know the soldier would
Much rather have a fowl for food,
And eat the wing or rib of goose,
Than smell its picture at his nose;
I take a part in his defence,
Because he speaks the better sense;
The undervaluing, you throw out
Hits me, and others in the croud,
Who being but militia persons,
Who in the war have made exertions
Yet have no right to wear the badge,
As indirectly you alledge,
By title and the club assum'd.—
By this time common fame had drum'd
The like ideas every where,
Amongst the people that were there,
With such exaggeration, as,
Is natural in the like case;

Videlicet, that the prognatus
Who then was there of Cincinnatus
Had ridicul'd the common people;
As not of the state church or steeple;
Calling them all scrubs and bodkins,
And haberdashers, and such odd things:
How that they ran away at York,
And left the regulars at the work:
And fled at Germantown and broke,
From those left busy in the smoke:
At other places turn'd about,
And scarcely ever shew'd their snout,
Where there was danger, or hot fire.
One of the colonels that was higher,
Became the spokesman of the rest;
And rage now boiling in his breast;
Quoth he, no doubt, we are but goats
And scarce above the beast that trots,
Compar'd with you, in what was done,
And services you son of a gun;
Tag-rag and bob-tail, doubtless, are
Compar'd with vet'ran officer;
Because we have not at our bosom
That thing of yours, a rosy crozum;
Are not embellish'd with a broach,
At head, or neck, or breast, or crotch;
A Latin motto or an ensign,
Our toils, or services evincing;
Being but a vulgar sort of whigs,
That in the marches danc'd our jigs;
Nor help'd at Trenton to take Hessians;
Or fought like you, on such occasions;
Or at the Cowpens, made good battle;
And so are but a common cattle,
And you alone sustain'd the cause,
While we like bears at home suck'd paws;
And cannot now advance a claim,
To hieroglyphic of your fame.
Quoth Cincinnat, the charge is false,
And of the nature of all tales,
Which contradicted, shew by proof,
Intrinsical, what they are of.
What? an American, by birth,
Degrade the military worth,

And lessen the deserv'd applause,
Of my compatriots, in the cause,
Of those who fought, in front, or flank,
In regular or militia rank.
My sentiments are the reverse;
And never had in view t' asperse
The signal honour you have won,
In order to advance my own.
These words had reason, but his voice
Was wholly buried in the noise;
And as the humour was with bat,
And brick, t' attack the Cincinnat,
His words could not restrain the mob,
Or check the violence of hubbub.
For when a multitude convenes
To carry on some hot designs,
They must do something, or seem slack,
Of skill and courage, for the attack.
So rushing discompos'd, the throng,
Brought violence, and blows along:
Here one uprais'd a ponderous stone;
Another got a dead horse bone;
Elsewhere, was seen, a block of wood,
Portending to the knight no good;
And all around the face of war
Appear'd, just gathering, in the air.
Now, shall we here describe a battle,
And if they encounter him at all,
Say, shall he wage an equal fight;
And wound whole ranks, and kill outright;
Like val'rous Hector, at the siege,
Of Troy, compose a perfect bridge,
Of bodies, upon which to tread,
And swell the rivers with the dead;
Or mow a whole battalion down,
Like Ajax, son of Telamon;
Construct a rampart of the slain;
And strew with carcases the plain?
Or shall I bid him jump among
The individuals of the throng;
Like Alexander, when half crazy,
He leapt among the Oxydracæ?
Or represent him as expert,
The various wiles of war t' exert;

Now giving way, and now advance,
To spit a parcel on his lance?
Shall I describe a various fray,
And change the fortune of the day;
Now on the verge of a defeat;
And now, in turn, advantage get;
One while broke down, like very stubble;
Now rise, and give the foe more trouble?
What wounds shall specify; what heart
Oppress with javelin or dart?
What names relate, and characters
Of those who rag'd this day like bears?
I wave the arduous task of this;
Because narration would be lies;
For, just the naked truth express'd,
In history, is always best.
Hence shall relate what came to pass;
And how the issue really was;
Videlicet—but here again,
I feel the rushing epic vein,
To bring Minerva, from the clouds,
Down sliding through aerial shrouds;
To make her vet'ran champion wise,
And teach him that no honour lies
In waging battle, where the chance,
Of war, between the combatants,
Is so unequal, as this was;
For, had no head piece, made of brass,
Or iron, adamant, or wood;
And let him do the best he could;
Yet still, the number, and the weight,
Of blows, that must assail the pate,
Would overpower his best defence,
And wound him, or knock out his brains.
'Twas no Minerva, or a God
From dome celestial, or abode,
But, his own reason, play'd the part,
And put discretion in his heart.
For, seeing that the wild misrule,
Of mob, as raging to the full,
As pedlars at an Ulster fair,
With their shilelahs, swung in air,
Left him no hope of victory,
He thought the best way was to fly;

And without waiting for the blows,
He turn'd the corner of a house;
Escaping from the rioters:
As when a morning shadow stirs,
And hides itself behind a wood,
Before the sun that would suck blood,
Pursuing, with his rising heat,
The thing that is not adequate,
To give him battle, and withstand
The numerons beams he has at hand:
To overpower it on the plains,
And maul it, and knock out its brains.
Retir'd, and to a tavern got,
Where disturbance there was not;
Fatigu'd with what had sung and said;
Now on a sofa laid his head;
Because he did not wish to trudge.
God Morpheus who does not begrudge
A dream, sent one to keep him quiet.
He saw a plain, and there espied,
The champions of the former period,
And airy coursers, on which they rode:
The cavalcade of ancient knight-hood;
A show would do the very sight good;
Such, as the monsters, had knock'd down;
And dwarfs, and giants, overthrown;
And fiery dragons of the air;
And pale fac'd virgins that were there;
Whom they had rescued from the grasp,
Of ravishers that did enclasp
Their snowy bodies, in their arms;
And drank the lustre of their charms;
Or knights themselves, who had been freed,
From oaken durance, where were treed;
Or bound in rocks, where by a spell,
They had remained invisible.
The Cincinnat approach'd the throng,
Who beckon'd him to come along;
As recognizing his advance,
To be that of no common man's;
But one who came to join the squad,
By that same baublet that he had;
With ensign of the eagle's beak,
And motto in th' original Greek

Or Latin, knew not which it was:
For things had come to such a pass,
When these knights flourish'd, devil a one,
Had such a thing as learning known;
But all depended on their slashing,
For fame, and for diurnal ration;
And cut and carv'd their sustenance,
By force of vig'rous arm and lance.
The Cincinnat address'd as ought,
With chosen words and select thought,
Quoth he, my seniors, in the art,
Of chivalry's great master part;
You see me of a junior breed;
A germ, sprung from the self same seed,
Of predecessors in romance,
And orders that did flourish once;
Profession now degenerate,
Reduc'd to the very lowest state;
For even the Cincinnati club
Which imitative is set up,
Is much traduc'd, and badge they wear
Is greatly undervalu'd here;
For instance that same pedagogue,
And clergyman that is in vogue,
And other cavillers, just now
I met with in a town came through;
Do lead astray the populace,
Who have no judgment in the case.
A senior from the squad step'd forth,
Of a superior mien, and worth:
Quoth he, the more the degradation,
Of chivalry, the more occasion,
For an exertion of the brain,
To kindle up the thing again;
And doubtless this same club of yours,
Has, as't were added boots and spurs,
To bring it to a trot once more
And restore the days of yore.
And, if discouragements arise,
In this the greater honour lies,
To overcome and persevere.
'Tis true, no dragons of the air,
Or fiery vultures do occur,
T' encounter with, and make a stir;

Or damsels ravish'd in a wood;
Or giants to let out his blood:
Or an enchanter with his spell;
But yet there is the devil in hell
To pay with other villainies,
That in your modern days take rise,
Such as false notions of the right,
Which it behooves a valourous knight
T' arraign with free born thought and speech
And tell the people which is which;
And no less courage is requir'd,
To speak the truth with which are fir'd;
Than to knock down a cow at grass,
Or monster that did come to pass.
Adventure, quoth the Cincinnat,
Not much less perilous than that
La Mancha's knight attempted when,
Somewhat unstable in his brain,
He took a wind-mill for a giant;
For like catastrophe is nigh hand
To him that combats with opinion
That is once fixed and has dominion;
Whether the monster of the hour,
Be anarchy or other power
In shape of mob, or demagogue
Which is another name for rogue;
As just now with a rabble rout
I did experience in the crowd,
In an adventure that was hot,
And where no credit could be got;
So that I deem it preferable
To joust with you than with the rabble
Of mankind in their prejudices,
Which no man ever did who wise is;
And so escaping I am here
To enter lists and break a spear.
Meantime a message had been sent
By Charlemagne to call from tent,
By trumpeter, the several orders,
That lay upon th' enchanted borders.
Our hero look'd to see where was,
Old Cincinnatus in the case.
In vain, for, in Elysium hous'd,
His mettle had not yet been rous'd;

But mixed, with the ignoble shades,
Did wander, idly in the glades;
And as in life, had been a ploughman,
And wore no badge, or dress uncommon;
So now he troubles not his head,
With these; but walks among the dead,
The Romans or obscurer Greeks;
That wore no pendle at their necks.
So much for vision of the dream,
That came into the head of him.
But now the Cincinnat below.
Awaking as some one came through,
Saw nothing but the standing chairs,
And landlord coming down the stairs.

The following comprises the scene in the 7th chapter of the 2d volume.

THE MODERN CHEVALIER.[1]

NOT far off hence there was a cabin
Inhabited by a great Rabbin,
A weaver who had serv'd the state,
Which Chevalier did not know yet,
And therefore having heard the loom,
Just as he had that way come
More out of humour than of ire
Began to feel a great desire
T' accost the manufacturer,
And ask him what was doing there;
A breed that earth themselves in cellars,
Like conjurors or fortune tellers;
Devoid of virtue and of mettle;
A sort of subterranean cattle,
Of no account in church or state,
Or ever think of being great,

As warriors or as politicians,
But lurk in dungeons like magicians.
Shall such an animal disturb
Quoth he, the peace of our suburb?
Or shall we drive him from his house,
Give him two or three kicks or blows?
Or is it best t' expostulate
And reasonably the matter state,
Why such inglorious life he leads;
And on alternate traddle treads?
Agreed; for what is moderate,
In counsel has the greatest weight;
And now advancing to the window
Like lover to his Rosalinda,
Address'd the manufacturer,
Or as 't were whisper'd in his ear,
With words mellifluous and speeches
And parables, and far fair fetches,
His censure of the occupation:
But take it as it was; the oration.
“Believe me not a Knight uncourt'ous,
Devoid of manners and of virtues,
Though thus abruptly I address you,
But calmly wait and hear the issue.
Are you enchanted by some gipsey,
Who on your heart has cast a sheep's eye,
And fain would hug you to her amours
In low and subterranean chambers,
That thus you linger in sick mansion,
Where never hath the light of sun shone?
Or worsted in some desperate wrangle,
By Giant, is your foot and ancle
Enthral'd in bondage past unloosing?
Or are you here of your own chusing!
And for your pastime tread on traddles,
As men in water play with paddles,
Or maidens on spinnets that warble;
Or harpsichord with grating ter'ble?
Is that a loom that stands before ye
That keeps you from the walks of glory?
It ill befits that men whom nature,
Hath favour'd with such parts and feature,
Should waste the taper of existence,
In meaner arts, when their assistance

Is wanted both in field and council,
To help our politics at groundsell,
And make some new and wholesome laws,
Or is it reasonable those claws
Should be employ'd in knotting threads;
Or oratorial shoulder blades
Should work, to drive the texture close,
Which else might in the Senate house,
With proper gesture give just force
To your expressions and discourse?
No doubt you have the eloquence,
If we could but extract it thence,
To bend the judgment and persuade
And hit the right nail on the head;
For half the force of nature lies
In latent powers and qualities
Which but the art of men alone
Or the occasion can make known.
What is there in the orifice
Of oral organ or of eyes,
That you should only gape and stare,
Just fit to carry guts to a bear?
Arise and shake your slumber off;
You have capacity enough;
Assume your place in state affairs,
And get up to the top o' th' stairs.”
The weaver sat and gap'd awhile,
Astonish'd at unusual stile,
And was preparing to reply
With a new lustre in his eye,
When on the outside came a blow
From unknown but unnatural foe.
It was the weaver's termagant
Who overhearing the Knight's rant
Did snatch a cudgel, and essay'd
A blow upon his shoulder blade,
Not to enable him with title,
But to give vent t' her rage a little;
But missing upper, did alight
Upon the postern of the Knight,
For head in window and hat slouching
He saw not this grey mare approaching,
The better horse at least o' th' weaver
And kept him in subjection ever.

Quoth she, what raggamuffin this
That comes to broach absurdities,
And turn again the crazy head
Of Traddle from his daily bread;
The business of his warp and woof,
Who has already had enough
Of politics and stuff, God knows,
Since first the hurry scurry rose:
The Devil burn them with hot pinchers,
And scorch their knuckle joints and fingers,
Who put it first in his conceiving
To think of this, and quit his weaving,
While customer is at the door
And must have work done: what is more,
In these affairs what does he know?
About as much as my brown cow.
No wonder that am out of humour
With the discourse of every comer
That puts such whimsies in his brain
To turn him to his freaks again.
With that she lays another thwack,
Impetuously upon the back
Of Knight who thought but of retiring
T' avoid th' unexpected firing,
'Till reconnoitering the foe,
He could distinguish who was who.
No doubt he could have match'd the onset,
For his long sword was not the bluntest;
But seeing her unwarlike sex,
With petticoat about her legs,
He took again his hand from hilt;
For no presumption of the guilt
Could justify by laws of order
The hurting her or going further,
For such the deference due the weaker,
That for a Knight to draw a trigger
Or lift his hand against a woman,
Is deem'd unfair and unbecoming,
But rather gradually assuage
With oil of courtesy her rage,
And having dissipated clamour,
Convert the contest to an amour.
So having drop'd his ire and hanger,
He thus address'd him to harnague her.

Uncourteous Damsel or Enchantress,
For you are not a common laundress,
What œstrum or phrenetic fury,
So underhandedly could spur ye,
To bastinado me, and break
My body from the rump to the neck,
Because I would do him a service
So long immur'd beneath the surface,
Why then from you uncourteous usage
Hard words, and cudgelling surplusage?
For such my meaning and fond wishes,
I had not thought of blows but kisses:
At least from one so fair as you are,
For as to charms of person few are,
More fit to be a Del' Tobosa
And in Romances make a huzza.
Are you unwilling to take rise,
Above your natural pedigrees,
And get your family upstairs
Securing honour to your heirs
For be your wife or virgin daughter
Draw but a ticket in state lotter'
And have relation to the house,
Especially if tis a spouse,
He draws you up to the same place,
Acquiring novel privileges.
Quoth she, experience is best proof,
And therefore I am wise enough
To know the fulsomness of this
And Traddl's popular services.
Much better he would keep t' his loom,
Nor listen to the roocks that come
And talk of the affairs of state;
Not much the better for them yet;
A set of idle lounging louts
That talk of interest and of votes
And keep him from his work, discoursing,
But never see them draw a purse string,
To recompence the loss of labour:
And after all what is't but jabber;
For what can he or they discover,
As I have told them over and over
In government that can be worth
The knowing or the calling forth?

The saying hits th' nail on th' head;
“Let every cobler stick t' his trade,”
And therefore be what you will
I take your interfering ill,
To touch the fiddle-string again
Of politicks that turns his brain.
No wonder that I feel some passion,
On this particular occasion,
And meditate another stroke;
Nor care I if your back is broke.
Quoth Knight, not half so much the blows
Of oaken stick hath wrought me woes,
As the bright lustre of your eyes
Which touches my propensities.
With teeth as white as ebony—
There's many a man would give a guinea,
To taste the ruby of your lips.
'Tis said that when a knight equips
Himself for deeds of chivalry,
Behooves t' have some one in his eye
Who fires his thoughts, and at whose feet
Throws all the victories he can get.
Now you are such a paragon
Of beauty's diamond set in stone,
That I am willing to enthral,
My heart to you and give you all.
Quoth she, my eyes are not so bright
That I can see without some light,
Nor have I any other teeth
Than serve to eat provisions with.
But were it so that I had beauty,
I better know my sworn duty
Than to in the world have it said
That I put horns on Traddle's head.
Quoth Knight, but is indissoluble
The knot, or cannot carry double?
Th' idea of antlers is a figure
Which are put on by the intriguer,
And do not in real'ty grow
Upon the injur'd husband's brow,
To make him Elk or Unicorn
With single or with double horn,
Or hinder him to enter door,
Or move as easily as before.

Think what an honour it will be
To have a progeny by me,
Some gallant chieftain or a worthy
To turn the world topsy turvy;
Unlike the offspring of one bred
To a diminutive manual trade;
Whose mind partakes of situation
And the subordinate occupation.
Quoth she have read some of your books
Knight errant Quixots', and their jokes,
Who fought with windmills, in a wood,
And drew from one another blood.
But was it not the rule with these
First to perform the services
Before did claim the ladies favour
As the demerit of their labour,
Now there is not far off a writer
To whom I bear a little spite here,
Because he laughs at Traddle's nonsense
Which is not equal to his own sense,
And says it is a vile state slur
To chuse him for a senator;
And though some truth may be in this
Not always should the truth express,
At least when it concerns him not;
Now I would have you go red hot
And cudgel him for his provoking,
And his unseasonable joking;
For though it is ridiculous
That Traddle should go to the house,
Or take a seat as he has done,
Why should it be so harp'd upon,
Or any but myself express
A sense of the unworthiness,
Though by the bye he is as fit,
As others that have no more wit,
And yet are pass'd by in the ballad
Escaping names that he is called.
Quoth Knight, you hit the very essence
Of all my spirits' effervescence
Which is to tread in magic steps
Of chivalry, and hair breadth scapes,
Redressing injury and wrong,
Or matron grave or damsel young;

For beauty is a brand that lights
Warm passion in the breast of Knights,
Down from the earliest days to this,
Which is at bottom of the base.
As to this writer in Gazette
He is a rascally marmozette,
As more that drew satiric quill
Half starv'd in garret 'gainst their will,
And worse than spiders which inhabit
The same aerial dome and abode.
Or wasps who with their nests incumber
Aerial garrets amid lumber,
And sting the very hand that presses,
Or lodges with them, and caresses.
No wonder that a mess-mate writer
Should be a damnable back-biter,
And if he has not kings t' engage
Attacks a weaver with his rage;
But shall repent it suddenly.
The Lady blandish'd with her eye,
And seem'd to thank him for his heat,
Hence set out to enquire the seat,
And chastise this Archilous
With battery and actual blows,
For words no more affect such vermin
Than does a hypocrite, a sermon,
Who turns deaf ear to your inveigh'ng
And goes on with his work again;
Though first it might be well t' upbraid
Before should come to break his head;
Preserve the usual character
Of good men when they go to war,
That of humanity and pains
To save the loss of blood and brains,
Until necessity aloud
Doth say that such way does no good;
Then it behooves t' impress the force
Of arm and cudgel on the curs.
It was a garret high in th' air
With small incumbrance round it where
The Rhymster had his residence
And issued all his lampoons thence,
The Knight perceiv'd him as he enter'd
With scratch and scrawl of verse encenter'd,

And though lip quivered and his rage
Bespoke the war he meant to wage,
Yet did compose his brow to rest
And thus the adversar' address'd.
Quoth he, though not devoid of manners
To the more honourable retainers
Of muse, and melody, and wit,
Who labour daily to excite,
The pleasing images of fancy,
In ode or madrigal or stanza;
Yet scarce have common courtesy,
To dogrel versifiers that lie
In obscure garrets, and from thence
Send forth th' expenditure of brains:
As't were the inmates of the rafter,
The fabricators of low laughter;
Who spare not neighbouring characters
Of any animal that stirs,
Up from the beggar to the prince;
And uselessly must break their shins,
Just merely to express the jest
That comes into their heads in haste:
The ebullition of their fun;
And you are such a son of a gun;
For is there not one Traddle, whom
You have depicted as the scum
Of Politicians of the age,
Which puts his Lady in a rage;
A weaver made a senator;
Object it to him as a slur;
And undervalue manual trade,
And calling of inferior grade;
Whereas in such consists our riches,
Without them where were coat or breeches
Or other vestment that we wear
But for the manufacturer?
But whence particular hate to this,
The sphere of your antipodes;
The cellar weaving Knight that lurks
While you swim to the top like corks,
And take your station in mid air,
And weave your compositions there,
And ought to have a fellow feeling
For those in nadir of your dwelling:

For both are of the mystery
Though one is low the other high,
But being a lady in the case
Behooves to interpose; suppress
Your obloquy in verse or prose,
Kick breech or corrugate the nose,
For such the dernier resort,
Reciprocation of the sport;
That, diction when it meets repulse
Should vibrate to its native sculls,
And reach the head that fram'd the verse
And did maliciously asperse.
Quoth writer, though a man o' th' sword,
Yet by the grammar of your word
You seem of literary talent,
With noble air and manner gallant,
And hurts me that you have t' express
The language of such prejudice
Against a loitering garretteer,
Eespecially myself, who here
Have honour to receive address,
From one of so much worthiness.
But though we have our residence
More elevate than other men's;
Like mad-cap wasps, sting travellers,
By flying at all characters;
Yet not without a proper use
In system to correct abuse,
When what is fungous, or absurd
In common matters has occur'd;
For instance when the foot puts head
Beneath upon the soil to tread,
And takes itself the upper place,
There is a monster in the case;
And we designate it, and note
Conversion of the head and foot,
And cast a ridicule on swain,
Who has ambition in his brain
To be a statesman, and make laws,
Instead of working with his claws:
Because his nature had not made
His mind for legislative trade;
At least the want of literature
T' appear with dignity in sphere,

Is an obstruction to the rise:
And hence more rational and wise
To occupy the quondam place
Than struggle for such loftiness,
And hence it is I have inveigh'd
'Gainst Traddle, not because his trade
Is underserving, but because
Would quit it to enact our laws;
For sir, would be as far as you
From bringing matters into view,
That may relate to means of living
As that of boot-making or weaving.
I hold all arts in estimation
Nor undervalue occupation;
And think a ditcher a good fellow,
Provided he his business follow,
It is unnatural change of places,
And the conversion that disgraces,
An able ditcher making laws
A senator in the morass.
In their own element all natures
Appear with justifiable features:
Why call a surgeon to set bone
If judgment is not look'd upon?
Is government an easy art,
Just like the driving of a cart
Which ever doth some skill require
To keep the wheel out of the mire?
'Tis thought the highest art of man
With comprehensive view to scan
The various interests of a state
And means of its becoming great.
I question not the good intent
Of Traddle for the government,
But the ability and skill,
On fact and similar principle.
As if a customer mounts loom,
Who accidentally might come;
And though his will is just as good
He cannot weave the web for's blood
But breaks the thread and works much evil,
Not instigated by the devil,
And so not object of our hate
Yet impropriety is great

And in the nature of things absurd.
The Knight had drank in every word
And thought the principle of's speech,
Some shew of reason seem'd to reach.
Quoth Writer, it was first my view
In what with Traddle had to do,
To open eyes and men convince,
At least the people of good sense,
How injudicious they were
Of sending untaught character
To pourtray in the senate house
As if he were the type of us;
But now with the description wearied,
Have brought my lampoons to a period,
And will no farther speak or write,
Especially since a worthy Knight
As you appear to be, advise it,
In this polite and friendly visit.
Quoth Knight, th' opportune courtesy,
Allays the passion that was high,
And now t' apologise for question
And my intruding on th' occasion,
Am of the order, and a Knight
Whose object is to set things right;
Depress th' unworthy and raise up
The preferable to the top,
And injury and force restrain
Of warriors sword, or writers pen,
Distributing best services
And keep commonwealth in peace,
And hence was led to interfere
In aid of Traddle's character,
Whose Lady is an Amazon,
And beauty's perfect paragon,
And laid it on me as a task
My sword and battery to unmask,
Against your irony and wit
By which her conjugal is hit,
And bid your pipe and verse repose,
Or take th' incendiar' by the nose,
Which from apology so courteous,
Expressive of your sense and virtues,
I wave, as being satisfied
That you have reason on your side:

But for the sake of this said matron
For am no rigid son of saturn,
Would wish you to be smooth and moderate
Until your differences are solder'd,
Nor carry to extremes the war,
But learn to conquer and to spare.
Enough is said to give you sense
Without your taking farther pains,
So drop your currency of quill
And volubility be still,
And turn to other quarters for
The instances that may occur
T' elucidate your argument,
And give your oratory vent:
For though so rough my late address,
Do not consider you the less,
But rank you as of class with us,
A writer at th' top of house;
A kind of literary knight,
Dispos'd to keep the world quiet
By aid of your satiric verse,
Th' insignificant t' amerce,
Or put down villainy and pride
That has opinion on its side,
For ridicule's a test of truth,
No less than reason; for it sheweth,
The weak and vulnerable part,
And probes distemper to the heart.
Hence kings have dreaded it and beggars,
More than artill'ry that beleaguers
Of rational and sober sense;
For when men laugh the farce begins,
And thing becomes aharlequin:
Whom you contemple with a grin
Leads men to hate it: as you please
Can turn the adversar' to geese,
To rat or monkey, and give tails
Just as the ide' you have prevails;
Effectual as magicians spell,
Or conjuror come out of hell,
For on retina of the eye,
Doth spread the worst absurdity,
So that no power of champion's sword
Doth surer victory afford,

Or throws a more oppressive weight
Into the scale of church or state.
Quoth writer, what you represent,
Is doubtless a great compliment
T' assimilate a knight and writer,
And of an equal worth consider;
But waving compliment, and reason
You have set forth with good expression;
I deem it greatly fortunate
That in this boist'rous time though late,
One has arisen with such skill
To subjugate all shape of ill.
It seem'd to me not long ago
As I did read a page or so,
The spirit of Chivalry was gone
Which has in other ages shone,
And left the world to common means;
Where what is gradual intervenes,
Without the aid of knight or waiter
To interfere and make it better.
But since excluding this conclusion,
You as it were have made intrusion,
And shewn by an example splendid,
That such exertion is not ended,
Go on like other combatants
Not just like them in killing g'ants;
But in performing modern good,
For ages are not now so rude
As to produce the like disorders
Which were remov'd by ancient orders;
And more by chivalry of tongue
Remains it now to redress wrong,
Than by an actual violence;
No doubt we had good share of sense,
Among the people of these states;
But yet have taken 't in their pates,
Because have privilege of office
They have the qualities that suffice,
And as republics have laid open
Advance to all men, there's no stopping,
And not a thing that wears a head
By an immediate impulse led
But sets up for a senator.
And though we do not hear the stir,

Of giants, monsters now adays,
Yet there is trouble other ways,
In keeping down licentiousness
Of what we call our privileges,
And just as much ado to quash
Election that is rather rash,
As was of old to knock down champ'ons;
And tho' harangu'd them in my lampoons,
Yet still the populace do err
Not chusing qualified that are;
But giving to such men their votes
That have as little sense as goats;
And thus it was that though did wage
A war with Traddle, had no rage,
Against the manufacturer;
But meant it as a kind of slur
Or fable designating hate
Against this evil in the state,
Men running up to services
Who are not fitted for the place,
Not having just capacity,
Because another way doth lie
The effort of the untaught brain;
Not that they are inferior men,
But of themselves are very good
Provided would not thus intrude,
And make equality a curse
By not distinguishing the force
And aptitude of natural powers
For their own offices or ours.
And now this day there is a rout
Scarce on your way a mile about,
Of people met to form a ticket
Of those who chuse to politic it,
And be our representatives
According as their interest thrives
For the respective candidate;
It would do service to the state,
If such a noble Knight as you
Would teach them what they ought to do,
And give them seasonable lessons
Respecting such their crude creations,
That on the one hand while they pass
The ignorant though monied ass,

So on the other should avoid
The chusing such amongst the crowd
As are unqualified though less,
They may in property possess
The Knight set out, and not far off
Fell in with people busy enough
About the matter of a choice,
And soon distinguish'd some one's voice,
As one who was a candidate.
The Knight address'd the people met
With usual stile of eloquence,
Quoth he, my fellow citizens,
No doubt you are all men of skill
In state affairs, and have good will
In serving this our government
Republican from Heaven sent,
Where all may climb to offices
Like animals that clamber trees;
But yet this liberty should use
As Saint Paul says, so not t' abuse;
And while each one retains the right
To bring his talents to the light,
Yet let the public mind prefer
I do not say the worthier
But him most for the office fit,
By his peculiar cast of wit,
And talent for particular case
And senatorial services,
As nature fits one horse to run
Another draws artillery gun;
For surely in the framing laws
There's need of something more than claws,
Or horn or hoof, or nails to scratch
At least to frame them with dispatch;
For judgment must be something worth
And speech to make a man hold forth,
And justify the step he takes;
Else twisted like a nose of wax
He bends just to the fugal man
With whom the yea or nay began;
Doth loose the natural dignity
Which all men have in reason's eye
While unaffectedly they move
And keep the corresponding groove,

For when th' unqualified are up,
And take their station at the top,
The commonwealth may be express'd
In the similitude of beast
That runs with tail upon its back
In its excursion through the brake;
Racoon, opossum or a bear,
Devoid of intellect that are.
These words encourag'd one hard by
Who had advancement in his eye,
From the pretension of some sense,
To hazard his own eloquence.
Quoth he, have had the inclination
To take a turn in public station,
Not that I have the greatest skill,
But that I have the best good will
To be a representative,
And make the public interest thrive;
T' assist your trade, and make you rich,
And give you liberty, for which
You have sustain'd so long a war
And now at length victorious are.
What profits it to have knock'd down
The great Cornwallis and Burgoyne
If in the meantime money-less
Your agriculture languishes?
It is the fault of those at helm
That these distresses overwhelm,
For if just measures were pursued
Our government would do us good:
And mischiefs that are come to pass
Be remedied by proper laws.
But those you send are loggerheads
And might as well be in their beds;
Or if they have a little share
Of sense and industry to spare,
They lay it out for their own use
And personal interest introduce.
As for this man that is set up,
What is foundation of his hope?
Has he more knowledge than a goose?
By what criterion do you chuse?
Is it his speech or dialect,
That has so rapidly you prick'd

To elevate him to a sphere
Where greatest orators appear?
Or are you credulous there is
In him some occult faculties
Which when the time may come about
You may be able to find out?
Or is it out of mere caprice
Would give him such unnatural rise
To shew the people can supply
A sudden respectability;
A man to power and greatest weight
From nothing as it were create?
To him the man not erudite,—
For he could neither read or write
But by a necromantic skill
Could lead the people at his will,
By means of some infernal dews
By which he sprinkled them profuse:
Not dews of Acheron or Styx,
By which he play'd these magic tricks,
But dews which he himself distill'd
From what he gather'd in his field:
Men call it whiskey, but the Gods
Call't what they please above the clouds
Who tasted it was straightway drawn
Insensibly to taste again,
And such the virtue of the fluid,
But say not whether bad or good,
Whoever put his nose to th' steam
Conceiv'd the delusory dream
Of being more than what he was;
And hence it easily came to pass
H' attributed the fume o' his brain
To a celestial origin;
And thought the giver of the fluid
With more than mortal pow'rs indu'd
And worshipp'd him: you might have seen
Idolators before the shrine
At morn and midday prostrate there
Or offering up an evening prayer.
No wonder that they thought him fit
With every talent requisite,
To occupy a place of trust,
Where weightiest matters are discuss'd,

And gave up sense and power of vote
For the ambrosia they had got;
And hence he had been Constable,
And acted as he was well able;
And next a Justice of the peace,
And bound o'er people at his ease,
And now became a candidate
For the assembly of the state,
He made no speech, but pointed out,
A keg of whiskey to the croud,
As much as if to say there is,
The test of my best services.
Why need I say the man was chosen,
By people waving like the ocean;
The wonder would be if left out.
The fact was he got every vote,
And would have got had there been more,
Or of competitors a score.
The Knight broke silence, and gave scope
To words as fast as he could ope,
Regretting this such strange perversion,
Of the political exertion.
Quoth he, am no aristocrat
To blame what people would be at,
In chusing from the multitude
Him destitute of noble blood,
Nor fenc'd with family connections,
To gain the popular affections.
Nor do I much regard estate
In chusing men to legislate,
As if alone your purse-proud fellows
Were capable to blow the bellows.
For poor in purse as well as spirit,
Have oftentimes the greatest merit,
And those in lowest life have wit,
And may be for an office fit,
With education for the place
And the connatural services,
More than the rich and glorious,
Who have a castle for a house
And ask an hundred men to dine,
Where all varieties combine,
As if the eating much or drinking,
Could help the faculty of thinking

Or looking at the bulk of stones,
Or brick they have about their bones,
In shape of building, could advance
Their parts above a common man's.
Have known as many perfect beasts
In ignorance at rich men's feasts,
As ever in inferior station
Where natural sense gets little lesson;
Have no ide' that equipages,
Can give unusual privileges,
Of sense and reason in the brain,
But often plain and labouring men
May have more sense than those whom riches,
Have dignified; the sons of bitches,
That set a value on estates,
As being a substitute for pates;
Whereas the talent nature gives
Original in the spirit lives,
And independent of the sod
Which else inglorious might be trod;
And hence the men that have been sages,
And greatest warriors of all ages,
Have had their birth in poverty,
And through distress have risen high:
For exercise of wit gives wit,
And renders the possessor fit,
For station that he occupies,
Or prompts him to superior rise,
Whereas the weight of wealth keeps down,
With an incumbrance of its own,
The fool imagining his gold,
Outweighs his folly when 'tis told
And turns to wisdom what he says,
Though ingorant as cow at grass.
Have seen enough to make me sick
Of purse proud men who very weak,
Have arrogated sense though were
As senseless as a sucking bear,
Which I despise and reprobate,
And would exclude them from the state,
Educing better progeny
Which fortune seems to have past by.
So that no aristocracy
But nature that I have in eye.

Nor is it literature alone,
That I would take my stand upon.
There are as many natural fools,
That have the literature of schools,
As have it not; and mother wit,
Is better than the whole of it:
The common people have a right
To throw into the state their mite,
Though not born all philosophers,
To gaze at planets and read stars,
And not in the academies
Are always found the very wise,
And science is but little help
To one by nature a dull whelp;
But what is nature without art,
To qualify for any part?
Whether it be the making shoes,
Or rectifying state abuse;
For not, as in the scripture phrase
Comes inspiration now adays
To make a statesman prophecy
And see with an intuitive eye,
But men just as they were remain,
Before were taken up. Again,
The making laws is not of grace,
And inspiration has no place,
And so that whether poor or rich,
And by the bye it makes not which;
Or whether learned in school or not,
Or education may have got,
I want the man of sense, of brain,
To put into the statesman's train;
Which not in this case is the case,
If one may from appearance guess.
Is it necessity or use
You have to plead in your excuse?
Or do you wish to burlesque us
By sending such a thing to th' house?
It is ungen'rous and unfair,
For you to be the merrier
At our disgrace and ignominy,
Being all as't were indigeni!
Of this same soil and residence.
Some thought the man had spoken sense,

But others willing to dissent
Not understanding what he meant
Or caring much about the matter;
(Just Lillibolera at Boyne water,
Would have suited them as well,
Or Gibberland or Granuel)
Shewed symptoms of dissatisfaction,
Opinion having a re-action;
And urging an appeal to force,
From the descision of discourse.
So that it seem'd the wiser way
To drop the occasion of affray,
Retiring from the multitude
And let him talk and fight who would.
It struck into the head of knight,
And glad he was he had come by't
To go t' a conjurer and enquire,
Into the case a little higher
Of what had puzzled him of late
These strange vagaries of the state;
And humour of the multitude;
Could do no harm, if not much good.
Approach'd the cell, and this his speech,
Quoth he I come not to beseech
Your conjuror-ship to explicate
How I a thing that's lost may get,
A cow, a stray horse, or a sheep,
But mystery that is more deep,
Videlicet; (and here he stated
The difficulty we have narrated.)
Quoth conjurer could better tell
What hurry scurry is in hell,
Or going on above the sun
Or will in future day be done;
Can question nature in her course,
And read the stars when mankind snores,
Or cast nativities and teach
A man's whole fortune at a stretch;
Go under ground and dig up spades,
Or dive in ocean to fish-beds,
And rifle trunks of men of war
That at the very bottom are
Or run through dens beneath the earth
And drag out thiefsters for our mirth,

For this is given to conjurors skill
But not a single syllable
Above the common race of men
To sphynx it and the cause explain
Of natural phenomenon
Such as you have just touch'd upon.
Prevaricative, quoth Knight and false.
Can you that trip it through stone walls
Not enter into human breast,
And read the passion there express'd,
And tell the origin of it,
In mode and manner explicit?
If maid wants husband, you can shew
The physiognomy of the beau,
And yet not tell why men run mad
Upon this legislative trade.
Is't easier or of better use
To find a stray horse, or stolen goose,
Than satisfy one at a loss
On what strange gudgeons this thing goes
That populace who have some sense
Should chuse a clod-pole without brains
To be themselves as't were i' th' house
And bear the politics th' espouse,
Well knowing that the image must
Bespeak th' original of bust,
And that they suffer in the shape
Which they send forward there to gape.
Now tell me what the cause of this
Absurdity of suffrages?
Not able, quoth the conjuror,
But there's a great philosopher
Not far off who has studied books,
And is a wise man by his looks,
Considered human nature so
That he can look it through and through,
And knows the inside of the scull
And breast of man, as well to th' full
As I can by an astrolabe
Take in the Heavens at a grab
And tell the future destiny
Of things that are in fortunes' eye:
For this my skill, and my profession.
Quoth Knight, no need of a disgression,

Or further homily to explain
Particular defect of brain.
The moral causes are best known
To him who keeps his noddle down,
Upon affairs of state; whereas,
In other studies for a cause,
Behooves t' apply to them that know
From the particular bent of brow.
The mathematician can demonstrate
What line is crooked or goes on strait;
The chemist analyse a vapour
And make the hydrogen appear
Or oxygen if such there be
Pent up in the concavity;
So that apology you make
Accounts in some sort for renege
And reference to another office,
For why or wherefore that may suffice;
And hence I take me to my scrapers
And farther investigating labours—
Elsewhere t' examine, and discuss,
This state arcanum & non plus.
So having spoke concluded diction,
Lest he should make the conj'ror sick soon,
And turn'd short off his perg'rination,
With more of thought and less oration,
Towards the sage's residence,
And having entered thus begins.
Quoth he, have been with a strange wight,
Who proves a mere blatherskite,
A conjuror but cannot tell,
Tho' has much magic in his cell;
How is it?—(here he stated knot,
The difficulty he came about
And pray'd the sage philosopher
To give the reason of th' affair:)
Was it enchantment of the brain,
That hurts the intellects of men,
And charms, that unawares invade
With error, popular cavalcade,
And mists and necromantic spells;
Made out of pots and crucibles,
To cloud the fancy and obscure,
The honest vision of the viewer

Who is deceiv'd and gives his vote,
As blindly as if drawn by lot,
Without distinction of the good,
Or bad among the multitude.
Quoth sage, it may be the gallanter,
To say 'tis done by an enchanter,
But so it is that simple nature,
Without a cause occult or greater,
Than men's own ordinary passions,
Or accident of the occasions,
Produces this phenomenon,
You seem so much to harp upon.
Sometimes it happens that caresses,
And courtesy attains the graces,
And bends the populace to him,
Who falls in with the popular whim;
For not th' inducement of best sense,
But in our liking choice begins;
For public interest gains no vote,
It is an object so remote—
Moreover envy of the good,
Will put the people in a mood,
To chuse the worst, out of mere spite,
To shew you that they have a right,
To take him up you call a fool
Out of the election water pool:
And of't without a thought they chuse,
As't were by accident, a goose;
Not knowing what they are about,
Until the tickets are drawn out.
Or if they would select the wise,
Stupidity has his disguise
Of sapience from his graver air,
Whereas sound reason speaks out clear,
And there is nothing magical,
Where you can comprehend it all;
But the obscure is the sublime,
And hence the people value him,
That has no speech at all, as gods,
Were rais'd to the supreme abodes,
In Egypt out of cats and rats,
And leeks and onions and all that's
Contemptible of beast or stock,
Because these us'd no words to shock

The adverse sentiments of men:
Or what may farther serve t' explain;
No one is jealous of the dunce,
Nor journal thinks worth while to pounce
Upon the ignoble candidate,
While the artillery of gazette
Plays on the obvious character
Which can afford some wear and tear,
And the excited prejudice
To a new progeny gives rise
Of falsehood and malevolence,
Perversions that the bad dispense
Against the endeavours of the good,
And wise not rightly understood,
So that, though medium of their hate,
Refracted, there is nothing great,
But like a wand in wave immers'd,
Seems crooked from the being aspers'd,
For as a fly is seen to poke
His nose where'er the skin is broke,
So calumny discovers faults,
And from defects to crimes exalts;
While such as have but little force
Of nature like a cow or horse,
Are safe, because what can be said
But that they have been stolen or stray'd.
Hence paragraphists have no woof,
Or warp to make invective of
And while no one exclaims, the wight,
Is deem'd for the advancement fit,
Or suffered to retain his place
Not on the score of works but grace;
Sufficient if he can say nay
Or ope his mouth to get out yea,
Just as the fugal man o' th' party,
Gives motion to the Neil M`Carty:
For being an automaton,
The movement need not be his own
And is more reg'lar the less sense,
Of independence he retains,
And less effects self-love of such,
As actuate the scaramouche;
And hence no word of him but good,
At home amongst the multitude,

So that he goes and goes again,
While the republic lasts—Amen.
The problem seemed to have solution,
And merited a contribution.
So asking what was to be paid,
The able casuist shook his head,
Declining to make charge—The Knight,
Was glad to have so cheap come by't,
And taking leave he wish'd him well,
Which is the ending of the tale.

[1]

This was written about the year 1788-9, and gave rise in the
authors mind to this publication under the signature of Modern
Chivalry.